Who Doesn't Love Farmville 2?
by CeliaEquus
Summary: Based on a prompt. Loki wants to stay in Midgard, but the only way he can achieve that is if he marries a mortal. And so he sets out to find someone willing to take him on, only to keep meeting resistance. Will anyone accept his hand in marriage? Disclaimer: I don't own the Avengers, or any other Marvel thingummies, nor am I making money from this. Coulki.


"Who Doesn't Love Farmville 2?"

Or 'Five Times Loki Proposed, and One Time He Got Hitched (Plus Epilogue)'

_Steve_

"Oh, wow," Steve said, scratching the back of his head. "Uh, that's… that's real nice of you to ask, uh, Loki."

"I can assure you that you will not be disappointed," Loki said, and he ran the tip of his new staff down Steve's chest. If only there was a point on this tree root he had found; he could have torn through that white shirt so very easily. Steve swallowed.

"It's just that this is all… very sudden."

"There is no set pace for passion, Steven. You fought in a war. You know that circumstances can dictate a certain degree of rush."

"Uh." Steve nudged the staff out of the way. "Now, don't take this the wrong way, but the fact that you're asking me to marry you… it's out-of-character. Are you Loki? If you are, there must be something wrong. If you just let me get Thor, he can check—"

Loki disappeared from the gymnasium. He had thought Rogers, with his sense of justice and kindness, and his habit of forgiving the unworthy, might concede to matrimony. Wedding a mortal was the only way for Loki to stay in Midgard. Despite his attempts to subjugate these people, and to destroy a few countries when he was prevented from achieving his noble goal… he rather liked the planet. It had certain appeals. Why would he attempt to rule a place for which he held disdain? Were he to live anywhere, he would choose Midgard. Why did mortals not see that his wish to control them was simply a desire to help? Look at where their greed and stupidity had brought them!

He was forced to consider alternatives to Captain America.

* * *

_Darcy_

The young woman was quite attractive, although he wondered why her scalp was nearly entirely covered with some woollen garment while she was indoors. However, she was indeed fair, and her overeager nature guaranteed that he would not be likely to grow bored with her.

"My lady," he said, and he bowed his head over her hand. "You appear to be a suitable companion. Would you accept my hand in marriage?"

Her jaw dropped, and she looked him over. "Wow. You're hot." He chose not to correct her on that point. "And you look kind of familiar. Have you been on TV? Or do you work around here? No, you've gotta work here. Civilians can't get into SHIELD. Not easily. Not unless you're Jane Foster's intern. And where Thor's girlfriend goes, so do I. Okay, I invite myself along, but… hey. Where are you going? I haven't said yes or no yet!"

Loki remembered that he could leave this building using magic, and did so, just as those characters in the popular British fantasy series. When he had first come to Midgard, someone had likened his abilities to 'Disapparation', and Loki forced him to elaborate. It was an intriguing notion. Were he to succeed in his plans, he would make time to read these volumes on the adventures of Harry Potter.

In the meantime, he would escape another potential meeting with Thor.

* * *

_Tony_

Through 'surfing' the internet, Loki had discovered that Anthony Stark was well-known for bedding many people. This told him two things:

1. His experience would likely make him an exceptional bed partner.

2. If he wished variety, Loki could very easily alter his appearance to suit Stark's mood. Should the mortal be deserving of such generosity.

He appeared while Stark was all alone, in front of the television (which held little fascination for Loki over the delights of the internet). His eyebrows arched when he noticed Loki.

"One ass-beating not enough for you?" he asked.

"You do get to the point most swiftly, Anthony," Loki said, rounding the couch. Stark's eyes never left his. "I have heard of your proclivities in the bedroom."

"You been bugging my mansion?"

"Why would I bring a plague of locusts on your residence?"

"…Forget I said anything. Say, on your way out, could you, like, avoid causing any damage?"

"Who said I wish to leave right away?" Loki asked, and he lounged beside Stark. "Or you could live with me. There will be more than sufficient room for your work and your… play-things, wherever I may settle on a more permanent basis."

"Okay, I'm not usually slow, but… Wait a second. Does this have anything to do with Capsicle? He said something weird the other day, about you asking to marry him."

"I do wish to marry," Loki said, and he smirked. "You are of above average intelligence, and thus a most desirable life partner in my eyes."

Stark cleared his throat. "No offence or anything, but I'm in a committed relationship, so I'm gonna have to say no. I'm guessing this isn't really a spell?"

Loki sighed, and he stood up. "Very well. I shall seek a companion elsewhere."

* * *

_Clint_

There was one person whose respect he had garnered on Loki's first visit to Midgard, and that was the archer. His archer, Hawkeye. Clint Barton. It was, perhaps, riskier to approach him than to approach any other. Except, perhaps, the Black Widow with her red ledger. Or the doctor who became a green beast. Yes. Barton was decidedly the better option.

He found the man in an enclosed arena, with targets at one end. Loki recognised this as the archery range at SHIELD. Once again he was playing with fire. It was thrilling.

"Perhaps, as we work so well together, you would consent to marrying me?" he asked.

Barton's shoulders tensed. Then he whipped around, bow still in hand and arrow nocked. Loki moved in time to avoid losing an eye.

On second thoughts, perhaps wooing an Avenger was an inadvisable course of action.

* * *

_A Stranger_

He was a failure. This was the one conclusion. Loki had considered all possibilities, and realised that, as the saying goes, all of the good ones were taken. Perhaps not all; but he had limited time in which to return to Asgard, or move to another realm, before Odin caught up with him. Then Loki would be unable to return to Midgard for eons.

He found one flicker of life on his slow way to New Mexico. There was a store, one of those establishments which provided fuel for Midgardian vehicles. Could this be his last chance?

Inside the building, he noticed a young woman with dark hair, standing behind the counter. She looked up upon Loki's entrance, and her eyes grew as round as dining plates. After a moment, she shook her head, and then leaned against the counter. Her palms were on the edge closest to her, and her fingers were out of sight. Loki paid such a matter little mind.

"This is a most agreeable store you have built," he said, and he smiled as he approached.

"Th-thank you, sir," she said. "Can I get you anything?"

He conceded that he was thirsty. "Do you have… what are they called… a soda?"

"Yeah. Which kind would you like?"

"Which is your favourite?"

"Well, I… I prefer cola."

"That sounds acceptable. What other refreshments do you offer? Do you have any personal preferences?"

While she was going over the range of chocolate biscuits, Loki proposed.

"Oh!" she said. "That's, uh… that's nice of you to ask, but I… well, I don't even know your name. Do I? I don't think you've told me."

"Nor do I have the pleasure of knowing your title, my lady," he said, and he kissed her hand before she could retract it.

He was awaiting her answer when he perceived the familiar sound of an automobile coming to a halt outside.

"Excuse me a minute," she said, and she returned to the counter. Loki examined the variety of biscuits, marvelling over the choices available, and wishing that Asgard had discovered such delicacies a few centuries ago.

"Will you come with me, sir?"

He turned, and stared, horrified, at the SHIELD agent.

"…Son of Coul, is it not?" he asked.

* * *

_Finally getting it right_

The young lady had summoned Phillip Coulson using a button hidden beneath her counter. He had provided her with it when he deduced that Loki might visit the gas station on the way home, and then awaited her signal nearby.

"You seem eager to get married," Phillip said. They had driven some way and then pulled over. He was now observing Loki, who felt as an insect beneath intense scrutiny.

"You were correct in your assessment that I would stop along the way," Loki said, staring out of the window. He glanced at Phillip in the reflection. "Well done. You have outplayed the Trickster. Will you take me to the Allfather now? I have failed in obtaining a spouse for the last time. I would rather be in shackles than continue to face a lonely existence."

"Like the concept of the ball and chain?"

"What do you mean by that remark? Such a thing would not hold me long."

"So you won't actually try to escape, because you don't want to stay in Midgard?"

"I _do_ wish to stay here! The only way to tie Odin's hands would be if I were wed to a mortal. Then he could not summon me back to Asgard."

Phillip coughed, and twisted in his seat. Instead of staring at the back of Loki's neck, he met the god's eyes in the glass reflection. Loki was trapped.

"Why do you want to stay?" Phillip asked.

Loki could have lied; but he did not. He turned to face the agent.

"Strange people are accepted here," he said. "In Asgard – any of the other realms – the odd ones out are mocked. In Midgard, I have noticed kindness to those who are different. Had I been raised in a place such as this…" Phillip nodded. "And I like the internet. Have you played Farmville 2?"

Phillip smiled. "I have."

"And do you enjoy it?"

"Who doesn't love Farmville 2?"

Loki chuckled, and Phillip joined in.

"Thank you, Son of Co—"

"Phil. Call me Phil."

"Phil." Loki exhaled slowly, and stared back out the window again. "You may not understand, but you make an excellent listener."

"I do understand. Everyone is different, even if it's just a little bit. I'm sure you'd find that back home."

"Home." Loki sneered. "I have no home. If you are referring to Asgard, they are all the same. The men are warriors, the women use magic. If it were not for progress, such would still be the case. Once, there were no female warriors. Once, if any man but the king were to use magic – true magic, not just the power granted them by a magical object – he would be considered less than a man. There are many names for such men, none of them flattering." His sneer faded. "Had I only faced a few disappointments, perhaps being told of my true heritage, and being told that I would never have a throne, would have pained me less. But continually being taunted for my abilities, and feared for my innocuous uses of them, all while being publicly flattered as the son of Odin…" His nails dug into his palms, and he attempted to even his breaths. "But you do not wish to hear this."

When Phillip – Phil – did not immediately begin the car's engine once more, Loki looked back over his shoulder. Strangely, Phil's eyes looked soft. He did not appear bored, nor condescending, nor even pitying.

"There's good in you," Phil said. "I helped Clint and Natasha, and many others. It would be hypocritical not to help you in some way."

Loki snorted. "I am beyond redemption."

"I don't think you are. If you were, none of this would still bother you, and you wouldn't have spent the last several months visiting Earth, for weeks at a time, to the point where you're proposing to… to complete strangers, just so you could escape Asgard." The way he studied Loki made the god feel stripped bare. "Do you really want to rule over us? Or were you just trying to prove something?"

"What could I possibly attempt to prove?"

"That you're better than Thor?"

"Ha! I have gained enough wisdom to know that such a thing is no longer possible."

"I don't know about that," Phil said. This time, he was the one who broke eye contact. "If we drew up a list of your virtues and flaws – for both of you – you'd probably be pretty even. Given a chance, you could beat him."

Loki snorted. "Unlikely."

"Give me a chance to prove it. You really don't yearn to take over Midgard?"

Loki's hand went to his stomach. Damn his species' indeterminate gender. There was a different yearning there.

"I do not," he whispered.

Phil shifted in his seat, sitting straight once more. "Where have they legalised it?" He hummed as he pressed the screen of his mobile device. "Let's see, let's s… Ah." He smiled, and his eyes met Loki's. "Well, we're already on our way to New Mexico."

"You are taking me back to Asgard, then?" Loki asked. For a fleeting moment, he had allowed himself to hope.

"No. A registry office."

* * *

Loki's enthusiastic gratitude on their wedding night – and may Heimdall forever be scarred had he watched them – turned into something which was now, nine months later, resting in Loki's arms. His body had slowly adapted to bear a child, and the breasts would disappear once the babe no longer required nourishment from his mother. In the meantime, Loki was exhausted from the labour, and worrying about Phil's reaction once he saw the newborn.

"Hey," Phil said as he entered the room. Loki pulled the babe closer, allowing it to finish suckling. Phil had become fascinated with the changes to Loki's body. But whether he would be so accepting of this newest – more permanent – anomaly remained to be seen, and Loki truly feared the answer. He had come to care for his husband, and to lose him would be devastating.

"Good evening, Phillip," Loki said, and he ducked his head.

"So formal? Well, you can call me whatever you like after what you've been through." He reached the end of the bed, and paused. "You look so beautiful."

"I do not. You are blinded by some strange affection you have developed for me these last few months. It will not last, now that I am no longer rounded by your offspring."

"Not true," Phil said, and he took out a small camera. "I want to take a picture of this. I'll always remember it, but I want to be able to show you when you haven't just gone through hours of labour."

Loki tried to smile, but his concerns made it difficult. Phil seemed satisfied, however.

"Now, want to show me our baby?" he asked, tucking the camera into his suit pocket.

"…Not really."

"Funny." Then his smile disappeared. "You're serious, aren't you? Why not?"

"Because you will think… you will think…"

"Loki," Phil said. "Boy or girl?"

"Boy."

"A son." Phil beamed. "We have a son. All right, next. Healthy?"

"I have not been able to detect anything unusual. Aside from the obvious."

"Obvious?"

Loki swallowed, and moved his hospital gown back into place. Then he lowered the blanket, and Phil stepped to his side. He inhaled sharply, and Loki wished that he was strong enough to disappear, along with the unnamed child. If Phil rejected them…

Then his husband reached down and stroked their child's cheek. He hissed between his teeth. Yet then his expression cleared.

"He knows his Daddy," he said. "Nearly gave me frostbite first. But it's okay now. Good defence mechanism. He takes after me."

"Phil," Loki said, staring at him. "He is blue."

"I can see that for myself."

"Are you not angry?"

He frowned. "Why would I be? I didn't think I'd ever be a dad, and now I am."

"But—"

"No buts, Loki." He sighed. "You told me you were a Jötun. I was prepared for this possibility." Loki could hardly draw breath. "And look." He moved his fingers to the middle of the child's face. "He has my nose."

"He looks like one of my kind."

Phil raised his other hand to Loki's shoulder, and gently stroked his neck. "I know you used to fight them."

"They are the monsters we were taught to hate and fear."

"Well." He cupped the back of the babe's head. "If you really want to, you could do what Odin did, and use magic to hide this. I'll support whatever you want to do. But I'm not ashamed." He kissed Loki's forehead. "I've seen some weird things, but our son isn't one of them. Okay?" Allowing a few tears of relief to fall, Loki nodded. "Good." He perched on the edge of the bed, and held out his hands. Loki passed their son into Phil's arms. "We need to talk names."

* * *

**I left it there because I realised that they'd have to delve into practicalities and whatnot, and that would bog down the ending. I'd rather leave it here. And no continuation. This is just a fill for a prompt on the kinkmeme. It's on page 47 of round 18, according to my story notes. Someone else has already started filling it as well, but I couldn't resist.**

**Please review!**


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